Lucky Escape
by avrovulcan
Summary: Illya makes contact with another agent to complete an assignment. Originally written for the Picfic challenge on LJ. Part of my Illya and Rebecca series.


She was a vision of beauty in her red and gold costume, the skirts swirling around her as she spun, her hands were doing a intricate dance of their own above her head. As she slowed and her dance neared the end, her brown eyes briefly locked onto a pair of intense blue ones.

The contact was only fleeting, but it was enough for Illya to confirm he'd received her message about their meeting place and that she'd obtained the information she'd been sent to retrieve. It was amazing what information could be passed by using hand movements.

The Russian ducked out of the New Delhi club and walked to a small cafe a few streets away; the owner worked for UNCLE and the cafe was a front for a minor outpost.

"Ah, Mr Kuryakin, nice to see you here again. Can I get you something?"

"Namaskāra Chetan, apanī utkr̥ṣṭa kŏphī kē ēka kr̥payā. _Good afternoon Chetan, one of your excellent coffees please._"

"Śrī Kuryakin, āpa apanē hindī jalda hī mērē sē bēhatara hō jā'ēgā, śarma kī bāta karanē kē li'ē mujhē ḍāla dēṅgē! _Mr Kuryakin, your Hindi will soon be better than mine, you will put me to shame!"_

"You have taught me a great deal over the years, Chetan," Illya smiled.

The Russian took his coffee and sat near the back of the room, positioning himself so he could see the entrance, sipping the strong bitter liquid as he waited.

It wasn't long before a woman, dressed in a rich blue and gold sari, her dark hair cascading around her shoulders, entered the establishment, smiling brightly at the owner as she breezed by. It was the dancer from the club.

As she sat next to the Russian, she pulled off one of her bangles and played with it, seemingly absent mindedly, as she spoke to Illya.

"I thought you'd never get here," she said.

"Transport problems, _**I**_ did not think I was going to get here, Becca."

"What kind of transport problems? I thought everything had been going fine."

"The Napoleon kind." Kuryakin sighed.

"Oh, what's he done now?"

"Um, I think he would rather I not say," Illya grinned slyly.

"Well at least you're here now. We should get going before they realise I've gone."

As she rose, she slipped the silver bangle into Illya's pocket. It was this piece of jewelry that contained the latest information on a THRUSH plan for world dominance by manipulating the airwaves; they were trying a kind of subliminal hypnosis carried within TV and Radio transmissions. Though in its infancy, the testing they had done so far on their test subjects had been fairly successful.

Before leaving the club, Rebecca Andrews had destroyed all the equipment and the paperwork relating to the plan. The only evidence that remained was contained within the bracelet, but they now had to get away without being caught.

"I have a car just a few metres away, lets go."

The two agents hurried out the cafe, saying goodby to Chetan as they left and made their way towards Illya's 'borrowed' vehicle, a rather beat up old van that a farmer would be missing soon.

They sped away to the outskirts of the town towards where a helicopter stood waiting in the aforesaid farmers field. As they approached the engine whined into life and the rotors slowly started turning. Within minutes they were strapping themselves into a flight ready aircraft.

Napoleon had already secured himself in the back after starting the chopper, his left leg propped up on the seat beside him, Rebecca raised an eyebrow as she peered over her shoulder at the American.

"What happened to you?"

"I er, well, urm, tried to avoid a collision, crashed the car and hurt my leg, I think it may be fractured."

"Ah, the transport problem then?" Andrews queried as she looked towards the Russian, "it's not that unusual in this job."

"It is when the collision was with the only tree for three miles after trying to avoid running over a dozing snake," Illya replied.

"A snake? Urm, I think I'll leave it at that. So, how did you get the helicopter?"

"A little bit of luck, we came across a small THRUSH outpost, a few miles after we crashed," Solo answered.

"Naturally it is not there anymore, nor is their helicopter," smiled Kuryakin as they smoothly left the ground.

"We have to make contact with Mark and April near Jaipur within four hours, do you think we'll make it?"

"Yes, we should have about an hour to spare."

As they drew near to their destination they were attacked by another helicopter, though it was bigger and better armed, it was heavier and less maneuverable.

Illya threw his own machine around the sky, avoiding the missiles and bullets aimed at them, while Becca called for help on the UNCLE radio frequency, hoping Mark and April were near enough to hear their call.

PING, PING, PING, SCHHRRRRCH

Smoke came streaming from their engine and they descended, spiralling down towards a thin canopy of trees, Illya struggling to control their fall.

They were going down, no doubt about it, but not before the trio saw their answering fire had also damaged the other aircraft and the heavier vehicle hit the ground first in a terrific explosion where there could be no survivors.

Crashing through the trees the smaller chopper was slowed before it hit the ground, throwing its occupants out.

Smelling aviation fuel, Illya and Becca pulled Napoleon away from the wreck and retreated far enough from the stricken craft so as to avoid any injuries if the machine exploded, which it did minutes later.

After catching their breath for a few minutes, they made their way towards the tree line and open ground.

Suddenly Illya's communicator chirped.

"Kuryakin here"

"Good to hear you darling, I presume the fireworks are your doing?" Came April's welcome voice.

"Yes, afraid so. I guess you must be somewhere near." The Russian replied, searching the sky for any sign of their friends.

A speck in the distance gradually became bigger and materialised into another helicopter, landing several feet from them.

Mark and April watched as the trio hobbled towards them, supporting one another.

"Looks like you three took a beating," Mark commented.

"You should see the other guys," quipped Illya, Becca and Napoleon; as the agents once again lifted into the sky and flew back to base, another assignment completed successfully.


End file.
